


We had to move on...

by Xochi44



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-10 23:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12310077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xochi44/pseuds/Xochi44
Summary: It was post season and he had to say something





	We had to move on...

_“Some, but, I mean, I make relationships with the guys on my team now and he…he makes relationships with guys on his team now, and that’s just kind of how it works out.”_

The words he read sounded wounded. He felt wounded, but wished it hadn’t come off like that. Zack scrolled and stared at his phone; once again looking at the congratulatory text he had sent Kersh a few weeks ago. It still went without a reply. He typed some words, but quickly deleted them. He sighed and slid his phone back into his pocket. He was at home, a crucial day off before Game Three. He gnawed at a hangnail until it bled. He cursed and how much it stung. He lifted himself off the couch and found some rubbing alcohol for it. He stuck his finger directly into the bottle and sighed with relief when the wound hit that fire.

He was the one to pull away after he had moved to Arizona. It was always easier to pull away and be miserable in his feelings that dealing with the love and affection of those he had left behind. He cared, but it was always so difficult to convey it. Kershaw had been there for him for years. It was stupid, but Kershaw was that big wing that tucked him in whenever he felt that he wasn’t living up to that enormous contract that was bestowed to him. Kersh knew the brilliance he had; he saw it even when he struggled to see it.

That contract coming out of Anaheim blew his mind, but the only person it didn’t faze was him, because he was right there with him. Kersh didn’t treat him like a delicate flower, but knew when and where to push and it made him better. Anaheim had been a struggle and in L.A. it became different. He felt freer. He spread the wings that felt clipped beforehand and flew. His numbers got better. He felt like his old self, before the doubt that crept into his mind, before the fear of failure made him wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. Before he had taken a step back and finally asked for help in Kansas. The help was always there now, his history was out there and he was unfazed by who knew it. He could speak about it to most, but Kersh’s ear was the most empathetic. They shared the same mound, the same crowd, the same flights, wins, and losses.

He knew how Kersh felt about him. Kersh could read him like a book and never required more than a smile and nod from him. On the bad days the best he did for him was just sit beside him and give him the occasional tap on the knee, and while it didn’t fix everything, it felt like he had taken a load off him and carried it for him so that when he went out, onto that mound they shared, he knew he was light enough to deceive the other team from even touching the ball that came out of his hand.

He touched the outline of his phone. He wanted so badly for him to answer. They were friends, but he had created a crater so big he knew it was difficult to bridge. He missed him. The wild card win had been draining and throughout that game, on the mound he kept imagining that light tap on his knee and then the back of his head telling him that he had this. He felt tears well up in his eyes. He grabbed the phone out of his pocket and pressed it against his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking, “I want to win, but I want you to be happy too.”

His phone beeped.

It was him.

“Best of luck, if it comes down to carrying a team on their back I know you’re the strongest and best.”


End file.
